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Brad
On Tuesday I flew to Boston and took a suite at the Meridian Hotel, which is located in the financial district surrounding Post office Square, and less than one block from Broadthroup and Brown's headquarters.
After settling in, I telephoned Lynn. She answered after eight or nine rings.
"Yes." Impatiently.
I was the only one with that number. There was no need to identify myself. "What time do you expect to leave the office this evening?"
"What?"
"I am sure you heard me."
After a pause, "Where are you?"
"Answer the question."
Another pause, then reluctantly. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it yet. About 8:30 or 9:00, I suppose."
"What are you wearing?"
"What?"
I did not say anything."
Finally, "A two piece suit, brown; brown two inch heels."
"And?"
"A bra, panties, pantyhose, a half slip."
"Colors?"
"White. White. Beige. Cream."
"Where are you?"
"In my office."
"Can anyone see you?"
"No."
"Are you standing or sitting."
"Standing. Looking out the window, if you must know."
"Good. Walk over to your desk, spread your feet apart, lift your skirt to your waist and bend over, resting your upper body on the desk."
"I won't"
"I think you will."
Silence, followed by sounds, seemingly of shoes on carpet, material rustling. Even if she hadn't, she was having to pretend, which was etching the image in her mind.
"All right." Her voice was muffled.
"I'm sure you look good that way. When you leave work tonight come to Suite 1500 at the Meridian Hotel to have your ass fucked on your way home. Suite 1500," I repeated once over her exclamations and hung up.
To Be Continued...